The Lightning Thief

I hate Australia! Naming that ridiculous animal after me. For that, Percy Jackson, my son shall destroy you!”
    The Chimera charged, its lion teeth gnashing. I managed to leap aside and dodge the bite.
    I ended up next to the family and the park ranger, who were all screaming now, trying to pry open the emergency exit doors.
    I couldn’t let them get hurt. I uncapped my sword, ran to the other side of the deck, and yelled, “Hey, Chihuahua!”
    The Chimera turned faster than I would’ve thought possible.
    Before I could swing my sword, it opened its mouth, emitting a stench like the world’s largest barbecue pit, and shot a column of flame straight at me.
    I dove through the explosion. The carpet burst into flames; the heat was so intense, it nearly seared off my eyebrows.
    Where I had been standing a moment before was a ragged hole in the side of the Arch, with melted metal steaming around the edges.
    Great, I thought. We just blowtorched a national monument.
    Riptide was now a shining bronze blade in my hands, and as the Chimera turned, I slashed at its neck.
    That was my fatal mistake. The blade sparked harmlessly off the dog collar. I tried to regain my balance, but I was so worried about defending myself against the fiery lion’s mouth, I completely forgot about the serpent tail until it whipped around and sank its fangs into my calf.
    My whole leg was on fire. I tried to jab Riptide into the Chimera’s mouth, but the serpent tail wrapped around my ankles and pulled me off balance, and my blade flew out of my hand, spinning out of the hole in the Arch and down toward the Mississippi River.
    I managed to get to my feet, but I knew I had lost. I was weaponless. I could feel deadly poison racing up to my chest. I remembered Chiron saying that Anaklusmos would always return to me, but there was no pen in my pocket. Maybe it had fallen too far away. Maybe it only returned when it was in pen form. I didn’t know, and I wasn’t going to live long enough to figure it out.
    I backed into the hole in the wall. The Chimera advanced, growling, smoke curling from its lips. The snake lady, Echidna, cackled. “They don’t make heroes like they used to, eh, son?”
    The monster growled. It seemed in no hurry to finish me off now that I was beaten.
    I glanced at the park ranger and the family. The little boy was hiding behind his father’s legs. I had to protect these people. I couldn’t just . . . die. I tried to think, but my whole body was on fire. My head felt dizzy. I had no sword. I was facing a massive, fire-breathing monster and its mother. And I was scared.
    There was no place else to go, so I stepped to the edge of the hole. Far, far below, the river glittered.
    If I died, would the monsters go away? Would they leave the humans alone?
    “If you are the son of Poseidon,” Echidna hissed, “you would not fear water. Jump, Percy Jackson. Show me that water will not harm you. Jump and retrieve your sword. Prove your bloodline.”
    Yeah, right, I thought. I’d read somewhere that jumping into water from a couple of stories up was like jumping onto solid asphalt. From here, I’d splatter on impact.
    The Chimera’s mouth glowed red, heating up for another blast.
    “You have no faith,” Echidna told me. “You do not trust the gods. I cannot blame you, little coward. Better you die now. The gods are faithless. The poison is in your heart.”
    She was right: I was dying. I could feel my breath slowing down. Nobody could save me, not even the gods.
    I backed up and looked down at the water. I remembered the warm glow of my father’s smile when I was a baby. He must have seen me. He must have visited me when I was in my cradle.
    I remembered the swirling green trident that had appeared above my head the night of capture the flag, when Poseidon had claimed me as his son.
    But this wasn’t the sea. This was the Mississippi, dead center of the USA. There was no Sea God here.
    “Die, faithless one,” Echidna rasped, and the Chimera sent a column of flame toward my face.
    “Father, help me,” I prayed.
    I turned and jumped. My clothes on fire, poison coursing through my veins, I plummeted toward the river.

I BECOME A KNOWN FUGITIVE
    I ’d love to tell you I had some deep revelation on my way down, that I came to terms with my own mortality, laughed in the face of death, et cetera.
    The truth? My only thought was: Aaaaggghhhhh!
    The river raced toward me at the speed of a truck. Wind ripped the breath from